


Still Would

by kittenofdoomage



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/F, F/M, Female Dean Winchester, Fluff, Girl On Girl, Magic, Male Pronouns, Sex, Smut, bisexual!reader, fem!dean, gender swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-25
Updated: 2020-04-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 18:49:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23842564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: A spell from a retreating witch leaves Dean with a severe case of misgendering. How will he adjust to his new feminine body, and how will the reader react?
Relationships: Dean Winchester/Reader
Comments: 4
Kudos: 88





	Still Would

There was one bullet left in the chamber and one witch left loose in the house. Sam and Y/N were taking care of the bitch downstairs and Dean was after the head honcho, who was hiding somewhere on the second floor. The air was thick with magic and he shivered, toeing open door after door on the long corridor, finding nothing.

At the last door, he paused, listening intently. On the other side, someone was muttering - probably the witch casting spells. He needed to surprise her if she didn’t know he was there already.

Kicking the door open violently, he aimed his weapon at the chick dressed in black, squeezing the trigger. The shot almost seemed to go through her and too late, he realized it was a decoy. Standing to his left, the real witch tossed a bowl at him, the liquid inside coating him from head to toe before he could block it.

A powerful force knocked him off his feet, sending him backward to collide with the antique oak paneling behind him. He hit it hard and went down, out cold, his empty gun clattering to the floor beside him.

The witch stood straight and smirked, watching the red liquid soak into his skin and clothes, disappearing as if he’d never been touched. “Now, maybe you’ll leave me alone,” she spat, looking up sharply as someone yelled up the stairs. “Fucking hunters.”

Sam’s thunderous footsteps forced her exit and she was gone by the time he reached the landing. Looking around for his brother, shock covered his face as he spotted him, laid out unconscious on the floor. “Dean!” Y/N was only just behind him, a similar expression of concern as she followed Sam towards the fallen hunter.

Dean didn’t rouse when Sam grabbed his shoulders and shook him; Y/N kicked at the bowl, seeing nothing inside. “Is he okay?” she asked and Sam shrugged, shaking Dean again.

“Dean!”

The older Winchester woke with a jump, sitting bolt upright and looking around in a panic. “Where’d she go?!”

Sam smiled in relief, clapping his brother on the shoulder. “She can’t have got far. You okay?”

“She…” Dean shook his head violently, his jaw slack. “God, she whammied me with something. I dunno -”

“We’ll get her,” Sam replied insistently, holding out his hand. He helped Dean up, but the second he was on his feet, he stumbled, leaving Y/N to help Sam catch him. “Shit, Dean. You okay?”

“Stop asking me that,” Dean grunted unhappily. “Just… just gemme outside, yeah?”

Patting his brother’s chest, Sam nodded and between him and Y/N, they got Dean outside to the Impala. He collapsed into the backseat, closing his eyes and groaning. “I feel like shit,” he rumbled, tugging at the blanket on the floor until it covered him from the waist up.

Y/N gave Sam a look as she closed the door. “He is not okay.”

Sighing, Sam ran a hand through his hair. “Nope.”

“We gonna find the witch?”

He hesitated, surveying their surroundings. “She’s not here anymore,” he said solemnly. “We’re gonna have to regroup. Let’s take Dean back to the motel and make sure he’s okay.”

Whatever the spell was, it seemed to make Dean excessively tired. He was like a lump of lead to get into the motel room; luckily, his and Y/N’s bed was closest to the door. Getting him down, Y/N moved to take his boots off, rolling him so she could pull his jacket and overshirt off. Normally, he wouldn’t sleep in his jeans, but his eyes were closed and he’d started snoring, so she pulled the covers over him and left him be.

“Is it a sleep spell?” she queried, glancing at Sam who was already pulling books out of his bag, placing them next to the laptop.

“Maybe,” he shrugged, “but our best bet is to find the witch, and get her to reverse the spell.”

“You really think that’s gonna work?”

“Gotta try.”

Trying for four hours got them nowhere, and with the night quickly becoming morning, they retired to bed, aiming to start fresh the next day. Y/N checked on Dean, finding him fast asleep with no apparent ill effects, so she curled up next to him, slowly drifting off.

She woke the next morning with an arm around her waist and a warm body behind her. Smiling, she snuggled down a little more, but when the body moved and two distinctly feminine body parts pressed into her back, her eyes shot up.

The motel room was kind of dark, and Y/N fumbled for the lamp, switching it on and turning, her eyes landing on the tall slim brunette dozing in the spot Dean had been. Her scream woke both the stranger and Sam, who reached for his gun as soon as he saw the intruder.

“Who the hell are you?!” Y/N screeched, not caring that she was only in her sleep shorts and a thin shirt. Sam had caught her in less, as was the habit of living in close quarters, so she didn’t have much modesty left. The woman’s eyes went wide and she looked down, her hands coming up to grab her tits through the shirt.

“What the fuck?” she whispered, lifting her head. Y/N glanced at Sam, both of them realizing that the woman was wearing Dean’s shirt and jeans, the clothing hanging at a distinctly looser angle than they had before. “Y/N? Babe?”

Swallowing, Y/N tilted her head, unsure what to think. “D-Dean?”

The woman nodded and Sam lowered his gun, staring at his brother - sister? - in shock. “Dude, you’re… not a dude,” he murmured. Dean stuck a hand underneath the covers, paling a little when he didn’t find what he was used to.

“I’m really not,” he groaned, aghast. “That witch turned me into a chick!” Y/N covered her mouth, the surprise wearing off and leaving her with mostly concern but slight amusement. Her smile wasn’t hidden quick enough and Dean glowered, folding his arms awkwardly over his chest. “It’s not funny! Undo it!”

“I can’t do anything!” she countered, holding her hands up. “I’m not a witch.”

Sam shook his head, placing his gun on the nightstand and touching Dean’s shoulder gently. “We’re gonna find the witch, okay? Get her to reverse this.” Dean looked up at him skeptically before sliding out of the bed. In a hilarious twist that made Y/N snort, Dean was now at least seven inches shorter than his brother.

He realized this immediately, face settling into a sulk; he promptly pushed past his brother and stomped off to the bathroom, slamming the door. Y/N’s gaze met Sam’s, and her mouth curled up into a tiny smirk. “This is funny, right?”

“A little,” Sam confessed quietly. “But we really should figure out how to fix him. You wanna go and check on him?”

Nodding, Y/N slipped to the door, knocking gently. “Dean?” She clasped her fingers around the handle. “I’m coming in, okay?” He didn’t answer, so she twisted the handle, slipping into the bathroom. Dean was standing by the mirror in the surprisingly spacious room, his hands on the sink as he stared at his reflection. “Hey,” she greeted, trying to get his attention.

“Tell me I’m dreaming,” he muttered bitterly, standing straight and turning to face her. “This is a nightmare, right?”

Reaching out as she drew closer, she pinched his arm and he yelped, the sound so much more high-pitched than he was used to. “I don’t think so,” she replied, giving him a weak smile. “I can’t begin to imagine how weird this is for you. But you won’t be stuck like this forever.”

Dean scoffed, blowing a strand of hair out of his eyes. His normally short locks were long, thick and luscious, with a slight curl at the ends. Y/N sucked in her cheeks, trying to think of something to say that would bolster his mood.

“You know,” she started cautiously, “this sucks but… I still would.”

He frowned, his delicate feminine features scrunching up. It was a little odd to be more on par with his height, and his frame was all wrong. Dean was a pretty broad guy, with skinny hips; now he was slim and svelte in all the right places and definitely didn’t look like he was over thirty, let alone forty. “Still would what?” he asked, a split second before he caught on. “Oh!”

“I’ve told you I was bisexual before,” she chuckled, running a hand down his arm. “And you’re a pretty hot woman.”

“Yeah, but, I always -” He paused, sighing and running a hand through his hair, scowling when his fingers kept going instead of stopping after an inch. “Goddamn, how do you deal with all this?” he muttered.

Y/N grinned, producing a hair tie from her pocket. “Sit down, and I’ll help you out.” Dean looked around, settling on the toilet seat after he’d tugged the lid down. Refraining from making a quip about men and toilets, Y/N picked up her brush from where it was hanging out of her washbag on the sink. When Dean was sat down, she moved just offside of him, starting to run the brush through his thick hair.

“I guess I always thought that you were like… I dunno, playing to my libido or something,” he confessed, wincing when she found a knot. Y/N giggled, shaking her head.

“No. I like girls. I just like dick a lot more.”

“So you’ve been with girls before?” he asked curiously, remaining stock still as she brushed his hair.

“A couple.”

“Damn.”

Putting the brush down, Y/N gathered his hair, separating it to make a braid. Dean kept still, letting her work, despite the odd sensation. He wondered if she’d ever brushed Sam’s hair - aside from the knots, it actually felt quite nice and he briefly considered growing his hair out if he got changed back.

Or maybe not.

He might end up stuck this way.

Was he supposed to refer to himself as a girl now? He still felt like a guy. Even if he hadn’t experienced a raging hard-on at the thought of Y/N with other women, there was a strange tingling, almost electric sensation, right in his lower belly, throbbing down to the warmth between his thighs. Female arousal seemed far more intense.

He didn’t ask, deciding it was too much to go into right then.

Y/N finished braiding his hair, leaving it a little more loose than she normally would. It was bad enough he was dealing with all this - she didn’t imagine that he’d enjoy a too-tight-hairstyle headache along with it. “All done,” she announced, returning the brush to the toiletries bag. When she went to step away, Dean stopped her, with a hand on her bare thigh.

“I’m sorry I snapped at you in there,” he said apologetically, looking up at her. She tilted her head, smiling at him softly.

“You don’t have to apologize, Dean. I don’t expect you to be over it in five minutes.”

He managed a smile, shrugging lightly. “Still… I’m sorry.”

She hovered for a moment before bending and kissing him, surprising him with the sudden movement. His reaction was slow and she was already pulling away by the time he decided he wanted more, leaving him a little stunned on the toilet seat. “I’m gonna send Sam out for breakfast,” she informed him, “and then I’ll get dressed. I’ve got some spare things you can borrow if you like?”

“Can’t I just wear -” He gestured to the loose clothing he was wearing.

“Well, yeah, but my stuff will fit you better. Not sure about my bra size though,” she muttered thoughtfully, one hand on the door. “We can always stop…” She paused, shaking her head. “You won’t be this way long enough to need it, hopefully. Besides, sometimes braless is better.”

He grinned, the shit-eating expression suddenly making him look a whole lot more Dean-like. “Hell yeah, it is. Easy access.”

“Pervert,” she laughed, opening the door. “Get washed up. I want the bathroom.”

Without any further leads on the witch, Sam ended up calling Rowena, who was on the other side of the country. She’d agreed to come and help, after laughing for a full five minutes at Dean’s predicament, on speaker the whole time so he could hear.

He’d sulked for a while, especially when Sam insisted on driving back to the bunker, leaving Dean relegated to the passenger seat. 

It only took a few miles before he was irritating Sam by complaining about all the various discomforts he’d noticed in three hours of being a woman.

“It’s so much hotter.” His jacket and overshirt came off. The top he’d borrowed from Y/N was a plain white t-shirt, and her bras hadn’t fit, leaving him bare underneath it. That provided additional complaining; boobs had stopped being great and were now a nuisance. “They’re always there. I mean, sure, I sat on my balls a few times,” Sam winced, “but these are always there.”

Y/N giggled, shaking her head. “I didn’t know your testicles were removable, Dean.”

“Explains a few things,” Sam muttered, earning himself a glare from the elder Winchester. It only encouraged Sam’s teasing. “So what do we call you now? Deana? I mean, if you’re gonna be stuck this way, yelling out ‘Dean’ might be a little odd.”

“Shut up,” Dean glowered, folding his arms over his chest, first over his boobs, then underneath, an irritated sigh passing his lips as he failed to find a comfortable position. “Another thing - things smell worse.”

“What?!” Y/N burst out laughing. “How is that even a thing?”

“Sam smells worse,” Dean argued.

Sam’s objection was instantaneous. “Hey!”

In the backseat, Y/N had to admit she was kind of enjoying the back and forth. Okay, Dean being a lady was a problem, no denying that. But for the first time in a long time, it felt like they were a little more relaxed. This was an issue that could be dealt with, not one that would destroy the world or end with people dead. It was nice to be back on the ground instead of dealing with gods.

“And another thing -”

“That’s enough, Dean,” Sam groaned, pulling the Impala into a gas station. “Don’t make me knock you out.”

“I’m a girl,” Dean replied smugly. “You can’t hit me.”

Y/N swore she could hear Sam’s teeth grinding together. “You’re still mentally a guy. I know you could take the hit,” Sam growled back, glancing at Y/N. “Want anything from the store?”

She shook her head. “No, but I’m gonna use the restroom. Dean can come with me.”

“Yeah,” Sam laughed, his amusement centered on his brother. “He might need help aiming.”

Dean scowled, but Sam was already out of the car and heading toward the store. Y/N climbed out, opening Dean’s door and reaching in to grab his arm. “Come on,” she instructed.

“What are we doing?”

“I figure we’ve got about five minutes,” she said, leading him to the restroom. They stepped inside and she closed the door, locking it and turning to him with a smirk. “I’m gonna give you something to think about so you stop irritating Sam.”

He stared at her, a cute little line between his eyebrows. “Huh?”

Y/N placed a hand on his shoulder, pushing him back against the sink and Dean spluttered, unsure what she was doing but enjoying the suddenly dominant touch. “There’s one benefit to being a girl you haven’t explored yet,” she purred, sliding her hand down over his chest. Her palm scraped against his nipple and Dean practically melted at the jolt of arousal it inspired. “Multiple,” her fingers slipped under his shirt, “orgasms.”

He groaned, clinging to the sink behind him as Y/N’s fingers dipped underneath the waistline of his borrowed pants. She’d also loaned him a pair of her newer panties, simple cotton pink with a little bow at the front - he’d blushed when she’d handed to him, despite actually having had her panties in his mouth on more than one occasion.

The second her fingertips brushed his sensitive sex, Dean quivered, closing his eyes and moaning deeply. Y/N grinned, eyes sparkling at how easily she could make him crumble like this. “Does that feel good?” she asked quietly, slowly and gently stroking his clit.

“F-fuck, yes,” he managed, forcing his eyes open to look at her. “Does it feel like this all the time?”

His curiosity made her chuckle and she nodded, leaning in to kiss him softly, still working her fingers against him. “Most of the time. Some days it’s more sensitive than others.” Pressing a little harder, she relished the sound Dean made, jumping in surprise when someone knocked loudly on the door.

“Come on, guys!” Sam called, his voice muffled through the wood. Y/N grunted in irritation, pulling her hands free, daring to taste her fingertips. Her eyes flashed as they locked on Dean’s and he wobbling, stumbling a little as he righted his clothes.

“Later,” Y/N promised, kissing him softly.

Dean squeaked a reply and scurried past her, thankful not to find Sam hovering on the other side of the door. He bolted out, running for the car as Y/N followed leisurely behind. Sam shot him a dark look when he slid into his seat and he smiled pleasantly back, barely able to concentrate on breathing for how aroused he was.

Y/N wore a shit-eating grin as she joined them, receiving an equally disapproving glance from Sam in the rearview mirror. He started the car, shaking his head and grumbling.

“I’m gonna sleep,” Dean muttered, turning his body to the door as Sam pulled the Impala out of the gas station and onto the main road. “Maybe I’ll wake up with a dick again.”

“Here’s hoping,” Sam grunted back, refusing to look at him.

Dean closed his eyes, trying to control his breathing. He felt like his skin was charged, and he wanted to know what else Y/N knew about pleasuring women. His mind was racing with a thousand scenarios of her with other women, leaving him feeling like the wetness between his thighs was obvious to the whole world.

He just hoped he didn’t make any sex noises if he fell asleep.

Sam couldn’t get away fast enough when they reached home, leaving Y/N and Dean alone, and there was more awkward silence than either of them could bear. Assuming he would follow, Y/N grabbed both their bags, offering him a weak smile before taking off ahead. Dean sucked in a breath, staring at his reflection in the Impala’s window.

After a few seconds, he turned, stumbling slightly as he miscalculated the move. He was used to a much higher center of gravity - he imagined he looked a lot like Bambi on ice when he walked. Hurrying to catch up to Y/N, he kept close to the wall, just in case he decided to faceplant the floor.

She was waiting for him in their room, and he closed the door when he stepped inside, meeting her gaze hesitantly. Being shy wasn’t his usual modus operandi, so the experience of such a core-shattering vulnerability wasn’t much fun but he felt safe there, in their bedroom, _their _space.

It helped that Y/N was so accepting of this. At least, he supposed, he hadn’t been transformed into a seven-foot-tall slobbering ogre or something like that.

“You doing okay?” Y/N asked, jarring him a little as she approached him. “You’re miles away.”

Dean smiled, habit lifting his hand to scratch at the back of his head and there was a second of alert when his fingers found the thick braid. Changing his tactic, he pulled the hair tie free, smoothing out the loose curls. “Getting used to things, I guess.”

She was in front of him now, bringing attention to the fact that he’d lost height in this form, leaving them almost nose to nose. “Anything I can help with?”

His cheeks darkened visibly and Y/N smirked, amused with how easily he blushed. Licking his lips, Dean placed a slightly shaky hand on her hip, tugging her a little closer. “I can think of a few things.” The kiss came naturally - he didn’t need to be in the right body to know what _she _liked. Y/N melted into him, wrapped her arms around his neck, inadvertently trapping his hair and making him yelp in pain.

“Sorry!” she squeaked, pulling back and covering her mouth but Dean was laughing.

Or giggling.

Which sounded really weird.

“Can I move this into familiar territory?” he asked, jerking his head toward the bed. Y/N nodded, letting him pull her to the queen-size bed, both of them stopping to shed their clothes at the edge. Dean, in another burst of shyness, scrambled under the covers, smiling up at her as he concealed himself from view. “Things are colder,” he excused.

“Wuss,” she muttered, climbing in beside him, instantly pressing up close against him. “We don’t have to do this, you know?” she offered, suddenly worried that he was only doing this for her benefit. Dean smiled, shaking his head, leaning in to kiss her softly.

“I want to. We probably won’t get this chance again and while Sam’s doin’ the research thing,” he kissed her again, “I figure we should keep ourselves _out _of trouble.” Her fingers slid over his hip, catching a ticklish spot that made him gasp and bite his lip, eyes widening at the sudden sensation. “Why is everything so much more _sensitive_?”

Y/N smirked at him. “You know, I always wondered what it would be like to be a guy for a day. Think the witch would do a swapsies?”

Dean frowned, his gaze drifting off somewhere else for a second before he snapped back. “I hate to admit it - and this never leaves this bed - but the idea of you being a guy and us - fuck, that shouldn’t be so hot to think about.”

She giggled, moving her hand lower, right between them so the back brushed against the soft curls covering Dean’s sex. His entire body was practically vibrating, and when she pressed her fingertips to the inside of his thighs, he parted them automatically, almost rolling onto his back. Humming under her breath, Y/N dragged one finger through his folds and Dean jerked, gasping loudly.

“You okay there?” she asked in amusement, repeating the gesture. He jerked again, not as violently this time, but the low moan he released only encouraged her to do it again.

“That feels really good,” he murmured.

“I’ve barely touched you.”

“It’s sensitive!”

With a short bark of laughter, Y/N moved her finger to the hidden bundle of nerves at the top of his sex, rubbing it in small circles. Each one made Dean whimper, a sound she wasn’t yet used to but was definitely enjoying. Applying a little more pressure made him louder and louder until he was quivering and almost sweating.

“Stop,” he pleaded weakly. “It’s t-too much.”

She ceased the movement but didn’t remove her finger, watching him shuddering. Apparently his “o” face was the same whether he was a dude or a lady. “Want me to try something else?” she asked, seeking his permission before she did anything. Dean opened his eyes, looking at her with what she could have sworn was shyness.

“Yeah,” he croaked.

Leaning in, Y/N kissed him, nuzzling her nose against his and moving her hand at the same time. He was so goddamn wet that she had to moan at the feel, easily sinking a single digit inside him. Dean emitted a sound somewhere between a cry and a grunt, pulling his head back to look at her without his eyes hurting.

“Feel how wet you are?” she purred, and his teeth sank into his lip again, his eyes falling shut as she withdrew her finger and sank it in again, repeating the gesture over and over. “God, Dean. You’re so fucking sexy like this.” Adding a second finger ruined his chance of replying, and she felt his hand grasp her arm. “Wanna cum on my fingers, baby?”

“Yes,” Dean hissed, initiating the next kiss, thrusting his tongue into her mouth. He still kissed the same; it was just softer, more yielding now. Y/N groaned into his mouth, feeling her own body responding to how easily she manipulated him. “Gonna… gonna cum,” he panted, shaking against her.

“Then cum,” she ordered gently, working her fingers a little harder when she felt him tighten in response. He’d used that phrase so many times on her when she’d been wrecked like this, now she could see why he did it. Dean came undone with a tiny cry, bucking on her fingers, so tight that she felt complied to withdraw. It didn’t stop his climax and for several more seconds, Y/N just watched him, smirking as she licked her fingers clean.

When he was finally done, he collapsed on his back, breathing heavily, a fine sheen of sweat covering his skin. She laid down beside him, smirking at his serene expression.

“Wanna know what’s funny?” she muttered. He cracked an eye open, rolling his head in her direction. “You taste the same.”

He laughed, rolling onto his side and shoving his hair out of his face. “If I’m stuck like this, I’m getting a haircut,” he groaned, pulling Y/N toward him. “I think I figured out the best part of all this.”

“What’s that?” she asked, kissing him chastely.

Dean smirked, grabbing her ass with one hand. “Wanna see if we can go all night?”

With a gun aimed at her head, the witch couldn’t very well object to Sam’s demand to return his brother to being… well, his _brother_. After three days of chasing her, the hunters had cornered her in a public library, where she was pretending to be the librarian she’d murdered.

The second she broke the curse, white light seemed to envelop Dean and when it faded, he was standing on the same spot, several inches taller than he had been and entirely male. Just to be sure, he grabbed his crotch, sighing with relief when he found his dick and balls right where they should be. “Oh, thank god.”

Raising her chin, the witch stared at Sam. “Well?”

“You still killed people,” he stated.

“I can change,” she replied sweetly.

A bullet hit her between the eyes, making both Winchesters jump and look at Y/N. She lowered her weapon, shrugging. “What?”

Sam glanced at Dean, and he chuckled. “Positively ruthless. Let’s just hope everything works the same.”

“Are you two gonna need a room?” Sam asked, rolling his eyes in disgust.

Y/N smiled, locking eyes with Dean. “Shouldn’t take more than five minutes.”


End file.
